


I'm going to make her an offer she can't refuse

by MooeSzy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-05-02 19:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14551884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooeSzy/pseuds/MooeSzy
Summary: Set after Hogwarts battle (you guys have to read to figure out how much after). The Golden Girl is missing since then.The rest is history ;)Enjoy!





	1. A state of suspended animation

**Author's Note:**

> Hy! I´m new to this, English isn´t my native language, and I guess that's all I have to say for now. Critics are more than welcome. Have fun people!

Phyllis was statue-like. Talons clawed the headmistress´s chair leaving marks in the old carved wood. Sluggish yellow eyes follow the swishing movement of a grey quill along a roll of parchment, made by an invisible hand. The great horned owl screeched loudly, opening and closing its wings trying to avoid the hypnotical flow of the object. However, the empty office, was warm, due to the lovely afternoon of August. And so, it is that the coziness settled, and the soothing sound of quill scratching parchment quickly caused a sleepy Phyllis.

Suddenly, a loud ´plop´, like a large bubble bursting, broke the tranquillity. The owl, fast asleep, didn´t budge an inch and kept on snoozing. Silently, an elf stepped towards the small staircase – that separated the office entrance from the humongous desk – holding, with an effort, a tray with a steamy pot of fresh tea, some china and a small plate of shortbread cookies. With duty fulfilled the tiny elf disappeared with a snap of fingers and another distinctive ´plop´. The honeyed lemon scent oozing from the open teapot ´s lid jerked the majestic bird from its slumber. Preparing to savor a treat the owl took off and with an amazing stealthiness, clasp a cookie using its beak and landed on a top shelf at the right of the office´s door.

“Phyllis, behave if you please,” a voice snap while the office door swung wide open. The owl hooted, pleased with its boldness, ignoring the almost demand of a request. The witch entered the office in a hurry, wavering long purple robes.

“Have no time to deal with mutiny right now” muttered gruffly, pulling her wand out.

With a swift, a silver cat with spectacle markings around the eyes emerged from the tip of the wand and landed gracefully on the wooden floor waiting for instructions.

“Kingsley, I arrived, forgive me for the delay," the headmistress said, looking toward the Patronus. The cat swung its tail and turned toward the door vanishing to deliver the message.

The witch passed anxiously around the office. _Trusting the word of Mundungus Fletcher was worthy of laughter, but on the other hand, Shacklebolt did ask to meet. For once the rumors could be true._

The witch sat down behind the desk and tried to maintain her composure. With a second wand movement the open books spread all over de desk shut themselves and floated to their respective shelve, the quill stopped the scribbling and lay to rest inside the inkpot, and the parchment roll itself and, neatly, floated to a specific drawer of the desk.

"You certainly are far more organized than I ever was Minerva, the office is impeccable," said Dumbledore in a merrily way, glancing from its portrait to the actual headmistress.

“Good afternoon Professor” she automatically responded while cleaning the spectacle's lenses with a tissue. Doing it the Muggle way seemed to calm her.

“Always helped clean space clean head so to speak” added distracted with a sigh. If only everything could be resolved with a bit of the old organization.

Phyllis soared down from the shelve and settled, yet again, in the armchair sensing the distress oozing from its owner. The owl had barely landed when the fireplace burst in a garish green colour and spit out a black man dressed in elongated blue robes.

“Pleasure to see you Minerva" said the man with a deep voice while reaching his wand and pointing it to a hanger near the corner of the office.

“Vera sella” and the hanger grew short and hider until it fully reached an ornate sixteen´s century style chair.

“Impeccable execution Kingsley” the witch evaluated with a tired nod.

“Old habits are hard to let go I see," said the men, stretching his features into a small smile. The wizard reached for the teapot and poured the content. Slowly he put one cup in front of the old professor, waiting, calculating, measuring exactly how to say what he had come to say – _there is no gentle way to put it_.

"Don´t sugar-coat for me Minister, tell me is it true?" demanded the headmistress in an eagerly and wounded way.

“Yes, we found what seemed to be her refugee for some time, however, neither Madame Lestrange our Miss Gran---Granger were there” he blurted in an unfashion and strange way for his current position as the head of the magical government.

McGonagall flinched like an invisible fist had clashed against her chest. “The place was empty?” _empty_. She repeated in a faint whisper to no one. Kingsley remained silent, nodding darkly, with sorrow plastered on his face. The portraits of former headmasters and headmistress behind them rose in exclamations of sad, anger and crying. Only Dumbledore remained in silence gazing the fall of the afternoon from his two-dimensional reality, a solitary and clear tear falling through his right cheek.

"Kingsley please… continue, at else did you reckon?" the witch stammered gingerly, clenching a fist on the desk and breathing heavily. The man recovered his strong posture and sat at the edge of his sit, hands clasped on his crossed legs and with a calming tone he began talking.

*******

 _In the first stages of hypothermia, the body will try to generate heat through shivering. When this fails it will decrease the flow of blood to the extremities. Metabolism slows to a crawl_...“You are dying, you just don´t know it, like a state of suspended animation.” murmured the blonde with a smirk.

The words from a random movie surfaced, unexpectedly, to her mind. A second shiver broke out from Fleur shoulders to the end of her back, exposed to the chilly air. The night was creeping on and the last wave of guests was starting to abandon the hotel rooftop. The French woman should do the same, but, instead, fished out the last cigarette of the package, brought it to her lips, light it with the tip of her finger, and took a long drag. Another custom that she had acquired, from living in the Muggle world., along with leather jackets, jeans, and sunglasses. It made her feel anonymous, gladly unimportant.

Fleur could still remember the looks of shock that she received the first time she yielded to the temptation and grabbed a smoke in front of her family.

 _Like smoking is going to kill me quicker than this congenital decease caused by… oh,_ wait _unrequited love_. She smiled bitterly, at the thought. Indeed, it resembled remarkably like dying from hypothermia. Bit by bit, seeping into her flesh, bones, and organs until it's too late to do anything. She would, eventually, die of love.

“Not even unrequited love girly, she had to know first” Fleur sight exhaling smoke through her nose.

 _I must find her first_.

The burning feeling of the smoke awoke her from the induced state of melancholy. She had a job to do. The woman stepped away from the handrail, took one last drag and crushed the cigarette with her hill, before apparating with a loud crack.

Before realizing she was being, carefully watched by a hooded figure.


	2. A Harsh Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, a longer one this time!  
> I´m not a fan of disclaiming what is going to happen in the next chapters or what characters are going to make an appearance. I will, of course, warn if any chapter comes with more violent content, but that's it.  
> Hope you like it, and stay tuned!

Augustus Rookwood awoke panicked and breathless. His strike-fear skeletal features were dimly illuminated. A single candle was placed strategically in a niche sheltered from the roaring wind infiltrating through the wall cracks. The cell was rock, cold, jagged and painfully empty. A thin and dirty mattress, and a bucket, all the furniture a convicted man could ever need.

 _Shutting down Azkaban and depriving hundreds of Dementors of their daily supply of despair only to throw me into another temporary hole. Well, at least I have my sanity and keep on giving these bastards a run for their money_ the man thought while trying to slow his breathing _._

Nonetheless, he had hoped that two years after his last joy-ride in Azkaban, the nightmares had subsided. Even in a free-Dementors zone they still had a grip on him. Trying to ignore the screams' eco that plagued the shortened night, the men leaned against the wall for support, trying to raise himself from the sweaty sheets. But his stiffen back had another idea and crumpled under the effort, sliding back to the starting point.

“Shit, bloody freezing cold, to hell with this” he panted tiredly, looking upward towards the ceiling, with caved eyes. The lack of proper food but mostly the icy walls were getting to him. With a herculean effort, he re-tried getting into a standing position and successfully, hobbled until he reached the door-cell.

“Hey, big sack of dragon dung get me something to eat!” spat arrogantly through the window-bars to the nearer Auror on guard duty. The grey-haired wizard paid him no mind and kept on reading the _Daily Prophet_ engulfed in Quidditch results.

“Asshole, I´m talking to you, lift your ugly mug from that shit and move!” At this, the Auror, slide a short wand from inside his left sleeve to his hand and pointed it to the iron door, that unlocked itself with a rapid click. He folded the paper under his arm and got up slowly from the chair.

“You know the drill Rookwood, step away from the door and get your snotty face against the opposite wall. Now!” demanded the guard with an exasperated tone. The door swung opened, while the prisoner followed the orders with guarded steps and a tantalizing little smirk barely noticeable through the thick and uncared beard. _There was no better way to start the day than pissing off the new nanny._ Rookwood liked to think that the last Auror, who had occupied the position of guarding him, still shivered every time he saw a knife… poor bloke, in his mid-twenties, supposedly showing great promise, unable to ever shave again. _I did warn him_.

The prisoner, quite unconcerned, turned himself against the wall with both hands clutched behind his head and legs spread. “Any stupid surprises today Mr. Rookwood?” asked the old Auror entering the cell, with suspicion and aiming his wand squarely to Rookwood’s back. “None at all Sir, just wish to have a peaceful and blissful morning” answered the other with faked saccharine voice.

“Right tell that to my partner sporting a scar from chin to eyebrow and missing the right eye…” mouthed the Auror acidly, while scavenging the cell for little surprises. “Your kind should be all put down like the beasts you are… getting rid of Azkaban… what a stupid decision, we ought to dump you there and lose the key, but no, effing politicians, always screwing the simplest of things” launched the wizard with an outraged tone, almost like he had an audience eager to know his opinion.

Rookwood´s eyes couldn´t role more even if he tried. The typical employed little men, probably just passing the time, craving retirement, bitching about the same authority that he embodied. The death eater was officially bored. _They never send a smarter one, I guess that I must keep switching them up until they deemed me a greater threat._

“All clear. I will see what the kitchen is serving for your majesty, this fine morning. You better wait seated” the Auror said, abundantly pleased with his remark. “Here, keep the paper, to see what you have been missing” added, tossing it to the make-shifted bed.

The prisoner only moved when he heard the other men shutting the door cell and disappearing towards the corridor. Daydreaming of ways in how to hurt the newest nanny, he crossed the cell and sat in the mattress, carelessly flicking the newspaper.

_The Falmouth Falcons were beaten by the oldest team in the League the, Puddlemere United, founded in 1163, won last night´s game by a staggering result of 750 to 240! The entire team lived by its motto, all players displaying great shape from the newest chaser, Rose Sanders, acquired last month from the Chudley Cannons to the veteran Oliver Woods, the best keeper for miles that this club has ever seen, saving almost as many goals as the ones scored by Sanders. The game lasted almost until dawn, until finally, at the one that would be his fourth and final attempt, Puddlemere United´s seeker, Caleb Abbot, captured the elusive Snitch with a phenomenal stunt (see on the next page)._

_Tonight it´s time for the Holyhead Harpies to stand their ground against the Kenmare Kestrels. It promises to be an intense and long game. The two teams are tied in 1st place and with only three weeks until the League´s end, no one wants to crack under pressure. Gwenog Jones, captain of the Harpies, having recently celebrated her 31st birthday, doesn´t give any credit to the fact that her newest teammate, Ginevra Weasley, confirmed to play today, has yet to experience a professional Quidditch match. Quoting "Ginny is gifted, the girl was born to be a chaser". Well, we will see about that tonight! Eight o´clock at the Holyhead Stadium, stay tuned!_

Rookwood recognized the name, one of Potter´s friends from the Department of Mysteries nuisance. _Had the nastiest Stupefy that one_. After finding no information regarding the continuous search for the deserters from the previously Hogwarts's showdown, he folded the newspaper and secure it under the mattress. The man sighed. Most people ignore the fact, but as a student at Hogwarts, he was also a chaser representing Ravenclaw. That, and one of Ravenclaw´s best students at the time. Of course, that, by the time he was twenty, starting the exams to enter the Unspeakable´s strenuous career, and being invited by Lord Voldemort himself to help the cause was a dream come true, as he as always sported, from an early age at Hogwarts, a tendency to the Dark Arts.

It didn´t favour him to contradict the fact that he could only be a Slytherin or also that he wasn´t a pureblood.

None of that mattered now, it was all over, and he had, unexpectedly, came out in the losing side. The death eater rolled up his left sleep and turned his inner forearm to the dim candlelight. Almost a year has passed since the Dark Lord´s demise, and the mark has been asleep since then, the constant burning feeling has receded, and the tattoo was no more than a faded greyish line. He followed the almost imperceptible line with his index finger, circling the skull reaching the snak… --

Suddenly, a loud explosion followed by several spells being shout could be heard coming from the end of the corridor, that Rookwood knew, ended at the entrance of the secret hiding. He also knew that five Aurors stand guard at all times, so who would be crazy enough to break in a Minister facility and why, he wondered. Regardless of that fact, the intruders responsible for the racket were succeeding, seeing that Rookwood could hear his new nanny and another Auror running towards the hall of his cell.

“How many are they?” screamed the younger Auror to the grey-haired companion, while shutting the door with a loud bang.

“Have no idea kiddo, we follow the procedure, call for reinforcements, we are harboring a high-security level prisoner, he stills as to attend martial court, so nothing happens to him!" shouted back the Auror barricading the door with the table.

“What a fuck are you doing old men, there are wizards on the other said of that door, do you really think that a table is going to stop a _Bombarda_ from blasting that door to pieces along with your ugly face!” snickered the death eater, against the window-bars, smiling through yellowed teeth, joyfully entertained.

“Shut it Rookwood! One more word and who blows you to smithereens is me!” roared the old man, pointing the wand toward the barricaded door.

“Albert, hurry up with the gooddamn warning - -!” “I can´t, I can´t…” cried the other Auror, furrowing his brows and waving his wand, while all that left the tip was foggy blueish mist, nothing resembling a real _Patronus_.

“Poor puppy should have never left the house today" Rookwood gave an enthusiastically laugh that was even able to shut the fighting noises coming from the corridor.

“That´s it we are leaving to heel with the proce… --!”

But his outburst was interrupted with a loud thud crashing against the door, and a crying wail.

“No, No, please, no –” the voice was quickly silenced and a sound of a body falling to the ground echoed, ominously, followed by the deepest of silences.

Both Aurors sheltered themselves behind one of the columns that supported the hall. With a swift of wand, the older Auror, extinguish all the candles, emerging the room in darkness.

“Albert, stop shaking and remember, coordinate your strikes with mine… and boy… breath, and don´t get yourself killed” whispered the older Auror, sensing the distress rolling in waves from the boy. The other recognized the advice with a faint whimper.

Rookwood licked his cracked lips impatiently. The privileged vision to the door and a couple of silhouettes hidden behind the column promised a, so very wanted, end to his boredom.

 _One_ BOOM

 _Two_ BOOM

 _Three_ BOOM.

At the third _Bombarda_ strike, the door hinges were torn from the door and went flying through the room, piercing the opposite wall and staying there wobbling. The table flew against the pillar and offered a bit more cover to the two Aurors. _Smart man my nanny_. The door collapsed with a deafening bang.

A split second later the room lit itself, in a mixture of blue and red, with spells casted silently against the entrance of the hall. However, the fired spells never hit their intended target, ricocheting off a powerful Shield charm to the walls and ceiling, bursting rock and creating an increasing cloud of dust. A figure clad in black robes stood behind the progressively cracked shield, chanting an imperceptible litany.

Rookwood´s eyes flared-up in recognition of the words and he quickly stepped away from the door cell. The Aurors only saw it coming when it was too late. A continuous and flowing flame burst through the room, forcing the wizards to seek shelter behind the up-side table. The older Auror had enough judgment to cast a flame-freezing charm, that stopped the burning and scolding sensation but, sadly, did nothing against the smoke filling the room.

They both passed out seconds later.

*******

Inverness is a city located on the Scottish Highlands, mostly known to Muggles for an odd and almost “magical” event, partaking, the imaginary of the Scottish folklore for hundreds of years: the many alleged sightings of the famous Loch Ness Monster. The creature was actually a _Kelpie_ a shapeshifting water demon that caused more than enough problems with the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy due to the habit of feeding by capturing humans and dragging them to the bottom of the lake. Nessie, as was later on baptized by the magizoologist Newt Scamander, was rendered docile through the placement of a bridle and the constant caring and feeding by which the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was responsible at all times. There haven´t been any more sightings since then.

Harry smiled thinking that he would never know this, if not for the passionate way in which Hermione loved to ramble about the subject. He was dragged from his thoughts by Ron´s voice.

“What was the pub´s name again?” asked the tall red-headed men.

“Nessie´s” replied Harry, absently.

“Oh, look it´s straight ahead. Who would name his bar after some chick?” pondered Ron to himself while walking.

“Because it´s not named after a girl.” answered a beautiful blonde woman clad in a revealing turquoise dress, that just apparated, and was walking towards them from a hidden corner.“It´s a reference to the Loch Ness Monster, Ronald.”

“Fleur?! We weren´t expecting you.” Harry stepped in front of Ron and greeted Fleur with a courteous hug. “Do not worry Harry, McGonagall and Shacklebolt are aware of my presence.” Harry was curious to know how much exactly she knew of the upcoming meeting´s content, but kept it to himself, certainly, everything would be clarified shortly.

However, Ron didn´t feel the same. “Why? It´s supposed to be a meeting for friends and family only.” the read-head blurted bluntly. _Smooth as always Ron_. “I imagine because Fleur is a counter-cursing specialist.” retorted Harry with a clear “shut it Ron” across his forehead. “That and because I care about Hermione, like every Order member, that is also going to attend the meeting," added Fleur, in a nonchallenging way looking the taller men dead in the eye. “Plans change Ron” sighed Harry, hearing her a name always left him a little out of his game. Ron´s mood didn´t improve with Fleur´s statement either.

“Yeah, I bet they do… Bill is going to be here you know?” Ron pointed, remorselessly “You could at least change into something a little less… – Ouch!” he complained after being nudged rather harshly by Harry. “Whatever, it´s none of my business anyway.” Ron turned his back on them, and with angry strides walked to the pub and entered, not looking back.Fleur´s saddening eyes followed him and then come back to Harry´s.

“Bill understands perfectly for stranger that it mays seems you know.” Fleur whispered, suddenly tiredly. Harry gave her a candid smile. “Fleur you don´t need to justify yourself to no one. It´s between you and Bill, and if both of you are fine, and in agreement concerning how things turned out, then so I am, and so should everyone be.” Fleur truly appreciated his words - “You are wise beyond your years Harry.”

That dislodge a booming laugh from the Boy-Who-Lived. “Not wise Fleur, it´s just practice, eventually you get used to being at the receiving end of Weasley`s fury”.

“You do it rather well, besides, Ronald does have a point, walking in a Scottish pub in this attirement isn´t exactly smart.” The witch waved her hand from top to bottom of her figure and the turquoise dress plus hills, fluidly change to a set of fresh navy-blue robes and black laced boots.

“Neat trick, wandless magic is brilliant.” offered Harry impressed.

"It comes more easily for me due to mine… heritage" disclosed the blonde. Harry nodded. “All properly dressed and ready, let´s walk in.” smiled the Auror teasingly, stepping aside and offering her the lead.

_Yes, get a grip Fleur. It´s just your ex-husband, ex-brothers-in-law, ex-mother in law… Mon Dieu…_

Steeling herself, she walked towards the pub and entered.

Nessie´s was your average magical Scottish establishment. The room´s light was smooth, the background music running in a mixture of higher bagpipes sounds, violins screeches, and melodic notes made by whistles, flutes, and harps that played itself at the back of the room. It smelled like varnished oak, warm whiskey, and tobacco. There were people dancing and talking between huge casks of Campbell's Finest Old Whisky, serving as tables. The high seats aligned by the solid wood balcony were all occupied, the drinks ranging from plain ginger ale, to butter beer, fire whiskey, apple and honey cider and aromatic mead. _I wonder if they have any wine…_

“There is nae doubt lassie, ye canna go out like that”. Fleur´s eyes left the room and focused on the _petit_ Scottish woman patting her arm with a pudgy hand. “Aye, nae can do” repeated the woman. A scent of lavender water emanated from the grizzled hair tied in a bun. The French woman smiled mildly – “Why not?” The hostess looked at her critically and swung her head in an upside movement “French I reckon. Come with me. And you too sonny” she pointed to Harry, who had stayed silently entertained watching the begrudging woman surveying Fleur with quizzical eyes. “Will ye have a bite?” asked the hostess in a haste, guiding them through the mayhem of shouts, laugh and quite a fair share of uproariously drunken men that only stopped the drinking to gawk at Fleur´s arrival. The blonde looked at Harry and seeing that he passed on the offered food answered, “No we are fine, thank you”. The hostess frowned slightly insulted. “But at least a wee drink, nay?” she pursued, opening a door to a back-room but clearly waiting for the drink´s request. “Mead for me…” conceded Fleur “And a butterbeer for me” added Harry. The woman gave a content nod and left leaving the door half-open.

Fleur froze looking at it, she didn´t have the guts to walk in straightway. “Fleur” – called Harry, gently. “Take a big breath, it´s just Mrs. Weasley, not a Cerberus, here I will enter with you.” And his black robes grazed hers, joining their arms and he walked inside, pushing her with him through the threshold. I could really use that drink now though Fleur holding herself against Harry and faking serenity.

What was left of the Order was spread across the room. Ron, George, and Charlie were standing at the end of the room, drinks in hand, leaning against the wall. Fleur hasn´t still got used to George´s hair being dark brown, as opposed to its normal bright red. Angelina Johnson, George´s girlfriend, was sitting by a roundtable with Luna and Neville, both holding hands. Percy and Bill were opposing them at the table discussing Transport Regulations. Next to them were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley alongside a woman that Fleur didn´t recognize but was holding a baby boy with bright rose-hair, that moved restlessly in her lap, so she deduced that could only be Andromeda Tonks. Finally, near the door stood Mundungus Fletcher, whispering under his breath and sustaining a bored demeanor, like he couldn´t wait to leave.

“Harry, my boy! How are you?” sounded Arthur, walking to shake Harry´s hand. “Splendid Mr. Wesley, Ginny asked to warn that she is going to be a little late, because of the game”. Harry moved to give a hug to Mrs. Weasley. "Oh it´s only natural, that girl couldn´t arrive in time even if her life depended it on it.” deemed while fussing over Harry´s uncooperative hair. “Mom leave it, only because Ginny didn´t want us in a game, it doesn’t mean…” started Charlie, only to be quickly interrupted. “No, not “a” game! She didn´t want us in her FIRST professional game, where on earth has this ever been seen before, her first game and she doesn´t want any family around…” shrilled Mrs. Weasley throwing a dirty look at her son.

“In ancient Veela culture one of the many rites of passage was facing danger armed only with a knife was it not Fleur?” The French woman took a while to understand who was Luna, addressing. The room became silenced with everyone acknowledging Fleur´s presence for the first time without the risk of suffering Mrs. Weasley's raging looks. “ _Oui, c’est vrai_ …I mean…yes, it is an example.” answered the blond, while fidgeting nervously, with a bracelet in her left arm. It was a gift from her grandmother the day she passed that exact test. She was fifteen.

“Can I ask you, how do you know?”

"Daddy had an acquaintance in Bulgaria who lived with a half-Veela for some time. Unfortunately, it didn´t last," answered Luna, with a dreamy smile. “He knew the reasons for the separation, but always insisted that he was bound not to say which. Bound to what exactly, dad was never able to discover.” Luna added, shrugging her shoulders, absently, and taking a sip of ginger ale.

Fleur´s eyes met Bill´s. They were, as always, sincere and comforting. Her secret would be safe with him.

The exchange passed unnoticed to everyone but Harry.

All of the sudden, the requested mead appeared at her side, levitating, and so as Harry´s butterbeer. The blonde took it and got a seat on the windowsill. She fought the urge to grab a smoke and sip the beverage. It was warm and profoundly sweet for Fleur´s taste. _I´m definitely a vin rouge type of girl_.

Mr. Weasley and all the Weasley brothers, with the exception of Ron, came to say hello, under Mrs. Weasley´s scowl. Arthur treated her with a kind smile and went on to speak with Neville. Percy passed her a respectful nod followed by a quick retreat. Charlie approached with a gallantry kiss on the hand and a wink, staying long enough to steal her drink and promise tales concerning a new-found dragon species. George crushed her a with a heartwarming hug and funny remark about how he should go back to his lady to prevent future disputes. And finally, the brother that she knew the best, welcomed her with a comforting hug. And Fleur passed her arms around his shoulders and hide her face in his neck thanking him, silently but earnestly for the prolonging of their friendship, despite everything.

"Come on don´t go crying on me, you know that I can´t stop afterward" chuckled Bill into her silvery hair. "It´s your fault if I do," said Fleur sheepishly, her eyes instantly shining. "I missed you, Bill." She couldn´t help it, it was as natural as breathing.

The men stepped out of the hug, and, surprisingly, returned “I missed you to Fleur… and because my mom is already crawling up walls, we might as well have fun with it.” he said, looking at her with a mischievous smile. Bill sat beside her and with a flick of a wand made appear a dust-covered bottle of red wine and two crystal cups. Fleur could indeed feel a venomous glare aiming at her. “You do have a death wish.” While Bill filled the cups, Fleur took a little vile from inside her robes. “Here you have.”

Accepting the wine, the blonde uncorked the vial and proceed by swallowing its white content with a back-head flip, followed by a rapid sip of wine. “It´s taking a toll on you Fleur, you need to rest.” reprehended Bill furrowing his brows in concern. Fleur´s grim, at the horrid flavor, distorted her features in an abnormal way. Superficially, she was still the fairest woman he had ever laid eyes upon. But her movements seemed mechanical, stiff and no longer presented the feline-nature from before. She was, for lack of better way of putting it, indisputably, more human. It was unsettling.

“Is it that obvious?”

But before Bill could answer, a known figure entered the room. Ginny walked in, red-long hair still wet and tied in a messy pony-tail, _Firebolt 2.0_ clad in her shoulder and gear bag dragged alongside her.

“Please don´t cheer for me all at once… it was a nothing, I just kicked some ass, no biggie” gloated the red-hair woman smiling brightly. Charlie tried to gesture for her to stop talking but too late.

“There will be no Quidditch talking tonight!” boomed Mrs. Weasley. "But mom I didn´t have the time, I was called last minute because of Serena´s injury… -”

"You didn´t have time to owl us, but the press had time to inform your OWN family about your very first game, don´t worry!” Mrs. Weasley shouted pointing her finger at a _Daily Prophet_.

“Whatever” Ginny muttered under breath, throwing her belongings into a corner and sitting beside Harry, with a very familiar scowl. “Pssst Ginny, what was the result?” whispered Ron. “No Quidditch talking tonight Won-Won didn´t you hear?!” retorted Ginny, in her mom´s best imitation voice.

“Settle down people!” intervene Mr. Weasley, looking at his wristwatch. “Shacklebolt and Minerva will be here any minute now, Percy please go and inform Barbara, the hostess, that we will use the Floo Network in this room and we don´t wish to be interrupted.” After Percy left Mr. Weasley walked to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of powder from inside a pouch and throw it to the logs, instantly igniting a fulgurous emerald-fire.

“Why the need for all the secrecy dad?” George asked. “Yes, and why Inverness, Scotland?” added Angelina. Arthur looked both to Ron than Harry, and with their consenting nods, disclaimed “To the request of the two Aurors present, I know nothing else.” and he reseated.

Every pair of eyes settled on both young men. “What does he mean Harry?” asked Ginny with a guarded tone.

“Let´s wait for the Headmistress and Minister” cut Ron, drawing his wand and guarding their privacy with _Muffliato_.

“Is about Hermione isn´t it?” Neville´s voice rose, defiantly. Harry nodded silently.

For a few seconds, no one uttered a sound. Only little Teddy moved asking for his godfather´s lap. Percy walked in again, carrying a fire whiskey bottle and a dozen cups, and shutting the door.

“Hell, to this I´m not going to toast to anything and especially no one, what is going on Harry Potter, answer me!” Ginny jumped from her chair, looking accusatory at Harry.

“Slow down Miss Weasley.” Kingleys´voice resonated in the silent room. The wizard got of the fire-place rearranging his blue robes and hat, followed by a severe-looking witch.

Both newcomers centered themselves and McGonagall, quickly, took word. “I appreciate you all being here, and also for your patient” the witch glared disapprovingly at Ginny and continue, squaring her shoulders and clasping her hands together

“As you know our dear Hermione went missing right after Hogwarts’s battle, however, what always remained in the dark is how exactly happened and of course where is she.” McGonagall ´voice broke for a heartbeat “Therefore Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have been solely charged, in the last year, to try and find their friend” the witch ended with a softer tone.

Kingsley continued. "The Auror´s work, however, has been built only in an important piece of information that hasn´t been made public knowledge, and I ad and reinforce, solely and purely by my choice," said Kinsley looking at each and every one.

That got the audience´s attention.

Harry and Ron shifted uncomfortably.

“Neither Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley agreed in holding this information. Also, both Aurors respond not to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement but exclusively to me” the Minister added.

Kingsley took a deep breath and spoke:

“Bellatrix Lestrange is alive.”

Fleur´s hands crushed the empty potion vial. Blood pooled in her hands. She didn´t feel a thing.


	3. Shattering Views

Albert woke up with a burning pain in his chest, every shallow breath causing a fire to erupt in his nose, throat, and lungs. He coughed repeatedly, trying to expel the smoke, but to no avail. The room was pit black and covered in a choking cloud of fume. With trouble breathing the young Auror felt the stone floor in an attempt to find his lost wand, his left eye was covered with dry blood from a gash in his forehead and the right kept stinging due to the smoke. Suddenly, he recalled the invader that opened a straight path in the Auror´s hideout, cladded in black, many spells cast and a staggering fire bursting right in front of him. Frazzled with the thought of not being alone, the boy doubled his efforts, wands sweeping the floor, knees, and boots scraping the ground causing more noise than what would be advisable…

Out of nowhere, a hand covered his mouth and a strong arm encircle his chest, trying to pull him towards the end of the room. Panicking the young man bit the foreign hand provoking a muffled sound of pain from the assailant, that even so didn´t release him.

“Be still dimwit.” ushered the older Auror against his ear.

Relieved, Albert let himself be dragged by the other men. Both retreated to the end of the room and Marcus, the older Auror, filtered the surrounding air for a proper breath. He signs the other men to keep silent and stand his ground behind a burnt table, trying to listen to what was going on in the inmate´s cell.

For a moment Albert could only hear what resembled a click of heels hitting the stone floor. And then Rockwood´s raspy voice filled with dread and disbelief – “You´re dead…I saw you died…it´s not possible…”

– “Sleep.” Albert lifted his head, it sounded an awful lot like a woman´s voice.

He turned to his companion to confirm. But Marcus has gone deathly pale, terror is written all over his aged features. Albert opened his mouth to whisper something but by the time he set his mind into it, his brain was no longer connected to anything, because the woman leaving the cell, followed by a levitating body was none other than the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange. Forgetting his open mouth, the young men blinked, mesmerized by the leather outfit under the thick black cloak, registered talon-shaped wand clasped in a porcelain hand, the long and curly like-night hair and mostly by the pair of dark brown eyes set upon him. Or maybe them… at this point, he didn´t know much of anything truly.

The younger Auror broke a sweat, incapable of understand why he kept rooted to the floor, drooling like a new-born when the most deranged Death Eater of all times was a mere ten feet away from him. But a split-second later that concern flew away so quickly as it appeared.

“Cool of dearie, you could use a break, come here.” Albert follows the voice´s instruction blindly. He got in a standing position and walked mechanically towards the newcomer. Actually, I shouldn´t he come to her, she asked politely and rather nicely, so different from the screamed daily barks from his fellow Aurors… Yes, it would be rather foolish not to greet the lovely lady…

“Lift the imperius demonic shrew!” roared Marcus aiming his wand directly to Lestranges´ heart.

“Is that a proper way to treat your betters Daffodil?” snickered the Death Eater, pacing the room towards the younger Auror.

“Pretty here is just doing what he wants…aren´t you dearie boy?” the woman traced her wand slowly by Albert´s cheek, almost like a caress of sorts.

“Definitely” responded the youngling, looking at the witch fondly.

“Snap of it Albert, for your own good!” cried Marcus, still watching the witch´s steps carefully. The woman laughed gleefully, clutched Albert´s shoulders with rabid hands, and pressed her salacious mouth to his ear. Marcus couldn't hear the nefarious words but nevertheless clutched his wand harder.

Stricken as he could have been by the unexpected apparition of the witch, he had already overcome the shock. He knew the woman for more than reputation, having spent seven years at Hogwarts with, at the time, Slytherin girl had taught him everything he needed to know about her seductive side-casted imperius.

“Still up to the same old tricks you hag!” snapped the Auror.

“The little badger is nervous isn´t he, don´t worry your self to a cry, I won´t hurt you…But I can´t say the same from baby boy over here…” And as soon as Lestrange unclutched her hands from the Auror´s shoulders, his face grew blotched and disfigured and with a raged screamed he thrown himself on top of Marcus. Without a second thought, the Auror stupefied his companion and thrown an almost simultaneous spell towards the Death Eater.

But, unfortunately, Bellatrix Lestrange was Bellatrix Lestrange for a reason and his counterspell has quickly deflected, causing a hole in the already damaged walls. “Hurting your fellow colleagues, Daffodil where´s your badger-loyalty… now-now I have no time for fun right now, so considerer yourself a lucky-icky badger will you.” Lestrange turns her back on the Auror, and head through the corridor, looking without a care in the world, skipping and humming between the fallen Aurors.

Marcus stood frozen in his place, dumbfounded by the pure nerve of the witch and secretly relieved to have survived the rendez-vous unharmed. But has Rockwood´s levitating body turned the corner, Bellatrix looked straight at him and a sickeningly sweet voice resonated inside his head – “Be a doll and make sure this gets to Potter´s knowledge will you, and one more thing” – Marcus had to hold his head with both hands, to stop it from tearing in half with the split-skull scream that followed – “STRICK ME AGAIN AND YOU ARE A DEAD BADGER!”. And, with a last menacing glance, the witch was gone with her prize.

*******

Fleur´s head was weightless, and she could feel herself quickly slipping into a faint. Her hands were smeared with blood from the deep gashes caused by the glass, but even that didn´t provoke a reaction. The bitch was alive…how on earth was that possible, it had to be a joke, she had seen Molly´s curse hit her straight in the chest, the crazy smirk abruptly erased from her face and the thud of the body in the Great Hall´s floor. Her Veela had burst in vengeful joy, only lamenting such a pain-free demise. Suddenly, a voice resonated, piercing her numbness – “Fleur, Fleur?!” - It sounded like Bill, but Fleur was too far away to be sure. A moment later she felt someone lifting her chin and came across with… Lestrange?

Her body rocked backed and slammed against the window, and the Veela took over. The French´s ocean-blue eyes turned dark-orange and a hiss falls from her clenched teeth. Fleur might not be a full-blooded Vella, but she still kept a few surprises in store from her heritage, her thrall being the less frightening perk. Her senses were fully developed, and the creature could sense the sudden sheen of nervous sweat that covered Ron´s forehead while he resorted to his wand or Shacklebolt´s attentive look set upon her. The Lestrange woman backed off, hands lifted in the air and gazed at her, not frightened, but almost… curious. At her side Bill looked at her, concern edging his scarred face and extended a hand towards Fleur. But it wasn´t Fleur in control anymore, and the Veela broke eye contact with the woman and directed her fiery gaze towards the men trying to reach her. Her extended nails scratched the wooden windowsill and she crouched herself ready to jump.

“Fleur…please focus, I need you to take a deep breath, Andromeda just wanted to take a look at your hands, nothing else.”

The Veela looked at the woman a second time. Nothing told her that she didn´t correspond to the insane woman, in her host´s fogged mind. The same proud jawline, porcelain skin, unruly hair and defiant eyes. With a snarl the Veela leaped forward, aching to confront the source of affliction to her host, but it was interrupted by a high-pitched scream from a baby, squirming in a man´s lap. The little boy was giggling and shaking his chubby hands in the Veela´s direction. The boy´s eyes started changing color. From the soft green that he was sporting to an amber-yellow until finally reflecting the Veela´s dark-orange color. To complete the set his bright-rose hair started changing to a white-golden hair, very much like her own. Distracted by the boy´s performance the creature failed to sense her host coming back to conscience and stirring under her skin, pushing to regain control of her body.

Focusing in the internal threat, the Veela clutched her head, scratching her own scalp in the attempt of keeping the human conscience at a distance, and wailing to repel the obnoxious girl that kept trying to fight her, but without success. With a last scream, the Vella fell to the floor and was thrown back to her caged existence, trapped inside human skin, human emotions and human weaknesses. Fleur draws an anxious first breath, keeping her face covered while her eyes returned to his normal electric-blue, and her body seeped the last strikes of tension provoked by the unwelcomed Veela. She could feel the creature pacing around her skin, eternally frustrated.

"Still my body blasted harpy". She felt a rush of pain in her skull, much like a punch but from inside herself. Around eight years of coexistence and the creature hated her as much as in its awakening moment. The French woman felt Bill´s hands rest, gently, in her shoulders, and she knew him to be kneeling to his right, waiting for her to leave her cocoon. “Hey… want to go grab a bit of fresh hair?” Bill said, with compassion lacing his voice. The room fell in silence, no one daring to breathe a touch more loudly. “Sure, no need for you to follow through” retorted Fleur in a quite acidic manner, her voice a tad raspy. The blonde got up and got out rather fast, closing the door with a loud bang.

“And we thought that you had a little issue Bill” chuckled George earning himself a smack in the head, courtesy of Angelina. Bill slumped his shoulders, pinched the bridge of his nose, and slouched into the nearest chair – “It´s getting out of hand” he said, more to himself than anybody. “What do you mean Mr.Weasley? Have similar… outbursts occurred?” asked McGonagall in an aggravated voice. Bill sighed – “It is not my place to tell Minerva, Veelas are very secretive about their nature, I´m quite sure Fleur already broke a few rules just by telling me” or marrying me, for that instance.

“Yes, indeed you are correct” Fleur walked in, hair and clothes cleaned and rearranged, without any trace of blood in her hands but still tensed and with a guarded look, that insisted in avoiding every pair of eyes that stare at her. “You can continue Minister, I´m deeply sorry for the… interruption” added the blonde, imitating Mundungus and leaning against the wall, nearer the exit door. “Are you sure Miss Delacour? – I´m certain that –“ started Shacklebolt, only to be interrupted “Very much Minister, no need for concern.” retorted Fleur bluntly.

“Very well, returning to the previous topic, Bellatrix Lestrange, it´s only fair that I give you all a quick rundown of events since Hogwarts’s battle. Firstly, Molly, at the 2nd of May, you actually killed, in self-defense, must I add, a man that was impersonating Madame Lestrange through Polyjuice Potion. His name was Martin Bouchard, a French citizen from the Bouchard family, longtime sponsors of You-Know-Who in France. He was a low-ranking Death Eater, mainly unknown to his comrades as well as to the British Ministry of Magic, reason why we believe, that Madame Lestrange choose him to be her decoy. To our astonishment, after the battle, when separating the bodies to return them to their respective families, besides Voldemort´s dead body wasn´t Bellatrix Lestrange but a young man. The Minister stopped and looked around the room, measuring reactions.

“It was actually your mother who made the identification, naturally the Bouchard family refused their own son, it caused a bit of a ruckus in the French Minister, the Bouchard´s being a good family and all…” added the Minister gesturing towards Fleur. The woman wasn’t surprised, Apolline Delacour middle name was ruckus, especially to people she loathed. “In the meantime, Harry and Ron were informed and resumed their work, in the last year, to follow the witch´s trail, but that went cold. She didn´t try once to contact the Malfoy´s, and we are pretty sure of that fact, Mrs. Malfoy doesn´t love it but she knows cooperating is the only way of keeping her and her son away from criminal consequences and the public eye. Her joint Gringotts account with Rodolphus Lestrange was kept open and monitored but as expected the witch didn´t resort to it –“

"In other words, you got nothing! You should have shared the information since the beginning, the wizarding world has a right to know a mad psycho is running around free, hell I got a right to know and help to catch that monster!" Neville finally exploded slamming his hand in the table and getting up angrily. Luna covered his tense hand. The men lowered his eyes and lean himself, with both elbows on the table, looking older than his age.

Fleur couldn´t help thinking that despite everything the Lestrange woman meant to the young men, he was still able to control himself better than she was. "Neville, I know that you feel like we have wronged you, but this couldn´t be released, the bitch took Hermione with her for leverage," Ron said looking apologetically. “She contacted you?” asked Neville.

“Me” intervened Harry, passing Teddy to his grandmother. “In the night of the 2nd of May, through a bloody crow believe it or not, with a message saying that she has taken Hermione with her. She wanted her death officialized and Narcissa and Draco far from harm, those were her only demands. If her survival were to be leaked Hermione would suffer…slowly and painfully…were the words used.” reported the young man crossing his arms and looking at Neville. The tall men finally re-seated and re-took Luna´s hand.

"All right, but still, we are the Order and Hermione´s friends…” “The decision to keep the information between a restricted group was mine Mr. Longbottom. Only Professor McGonagall, Mr. Potter and Weasley, Mr. Fletcher and I were aware of the situation". The Minister stepped in again, regaining the floor. “So, I informing the Order now, Minister?” asked Ginny, arms crossed still defensive. “There has been a change... Mr. Fletcher care to join in?” the Minister gestured towards the begrudged little men.

Fleur understood the importance of keeping the shady man around, his reputation of acquiring every physical or information asset required by the Order was priceless, but still, his mannerisms didn´t offer any confidence. The fact that he has run with his tail between his legs and left Mad-Eye Moody to be killed didn´t help. The men was covered by an olive-colored jacket, extremely used and shabby, a yellow stained tie and a disheveled brown pants. He unwillingly moved forward leaving a tobacco and beer scent behind. Fleur crinkled her nose in distaste, her senses still high from the unwanted transformation.

“Well I´m ere just like y´ wanted, I must say y´ sir are looking fine this evening and it´s a pleasure to help the Order, like always. I acquired the information y´ requested with huge personal danger if may say. What d´ya think about getting a few drinks circulating – “ began Mundungus, bowing deeply to Shacklebolt and smiling with tobacco-stained teeth to everyone present. “That´s quite enough Mundungus.” Interrupted the Minister with his deep and decisive voice. “Mr. Fletcher has agreed to be in a lookout for news or rumors concerning the Death Eater, as he moves in… different circles. A few days ago, two to be exact, his search finally paid off." At this point Mundungus was smiling even hider, tucking his shirt, and straitening his tie like he was going to receive an award at any moment. “Please Mr. Fletcher, curtly and direct” added Shacklebolt with a warning look.

"So, one of this days, after getting a nice promotion in a few second-hand brooms, I got an owl from an associate, with a location attached. I can´t divulge his name, y´ see he isn´t exactly in love with the Ministry of Magic… moving on, with the letter he sends me a package containing a very special item..." While he spoke, the little men brought his hand to an inside pocket and took a familiar vine wood wand. "According to my acquaintance, it was forgotten between ruble in a blown-up house a few miles from here. I went there, and well it can barely be called a house, it´s more like a battlefield.” added the men totally in a non-challenging attitude. Suddenly his arm twitched, and he dropped the wand with a yelp. “Effing piece of wood always jolting me.” screamed grabbing his hand and preparing himself to kick the wand.

However, Charlie moved faster and grabbed him by his tie making him spin on himself and falling on his ass. “No, you don´t, go kick yourself far away from here!” Mundungus shoot him an angry look and got up on his crooked feet. “Well Minister, my work is done, I got places to be so… until next time.” and with the snap of fingers, he was gone. “Sneaky little pester, he still had to show us the house, great Charlie!” complained Ron. "Do not tire yourself, Mr. Weasley, I know where this house is," said Shacklebolt stopping the incoming altercation. “What I didn´t know was this… indeed Mr. Fletcher is a sneaky fellow…” added the tall man while kneeling beside the wand, without touching it, though. “Miss Delacour your specialty if I´m not mistaken. Care to unravel this wand´s secrets for us?” he said.

Fleur jumped to life and crossed the room in two strides. With a swift movement, she let her own wand drop from her sleeve to her hand and pointed it to Hermione´s wand uttering a silent levitation spell. The wand offered no resistance to being object of magic, that being a good sign, seeing that previously had tried to leave Mundungus grasped. It still kept faithful to her owner´s tastes. Determining that it was safe to hold the wand, Fleur stored hers and hold the vine-wood wand. A warm feeling enclosed her hands and caused a shiver to run through her arms in a pleasing feeling.

“What do you mean by it´s Fleur specialty ?” asked Ron suspiciously, still recalling the incident from mere minutes ago. As Fleur didn´t acknowledge the question, Bill took the cue, and answered quietly, trying not to break the woman´s concentration – “Wandlore is one of the purest manifestations of magic as such easier for Fleur to recognize due her inheritance, besides, her grandmother is a known wand crafter, despite little to no recognition in the more traditional circles.” Fleur paid little to no attention to the exchange of whispers. It was surreal to hold her wand, a part of her. The French woman could feel the dragon heartstrings stretching along the carvings in the wood like they had been repressed for a prolonged period of time. She would never forget her grandmother's first words to her, regarding the primary thing to know about wands, “ _treat stranded wand like you would treat a wounded animal, if the wand is defensive probably was made to do something that went against her owner´s will”_.

"This wand wasn´t wielded last by Hermione, but it didn´t change allegiance," stated Fleur after a few seconds of silence. "With your permission Minister, I will use the Reverse Spell." After Shacklebolt´s nod, Fleur holds her wand again and pointed it towards the vine-wood wand, whispering Prior Incantato. A light gold shimmer surrounded the other wand and came jolting towards the tip of Fleur´s wand. The blonde woman twisted her wand with a pulsing movement, concentrating on filtering the needed information.

After a few moments, the shimmering gold transformed into a hypnotic blue and Fleur´s arm started to shake, her brow furrowing in deep thought. “Fleur that´s enough!” started Bill, but Fleur couldn´t take it anymore and gave up, throwing her arm down and broking the light beam. McGonagall and Shacklebolt looked at each other, concern edging their expressions.

“So, what was the last spell?” asked Ginny anxiously. Harry circled an arm around her waist and answered, in a glooming whisper.

“The Cruciatus Curse.”

The room released a collective gasp of shock. Fleur picked Hermione´s wand and stored it in an inner pocket, and disregarding everyone returned to the window, opened it and cave in her cravings, grabbing a smoke.

“Can I have one too?” Fleur looked to her left, surprised. Andromeda was sporting a smirk and a relaxed posture.

“Of course.” conceded Fleur passing her a cigarette and a lighter. The older woman placed the cigarette in her mouth and lighted it with the ease of experience. “My husband used to call this, the worst Muggle invention. Obviously, it grew to be my favorite” said Andromeda with a bitter smile.

“At first it was the weirdest sensation, to get over the psychological sense of breathing something that wasn't air - a little like breathing underwater.” she continued in a nostalgic tone.

"My favorite part is the burning feeling and it also calms the Veela so it´s a win-win situation," added Fleur absentmindedly.

“Yes, the Veela… she doesn´t exactly adores me, does she?” said Andromeda, living Fleur stunned with how much she resembled Tonks with a full smile.

"It caught me by surprise for a moment, I´m sorry Andromeda, I promise that it won't happen again," answered Fleur with an embarrassed look. “Don´t worry dear, water under the bridge," added Andromeda with a conformed expression. “In another note, you call your Veela… it?”

Fleur´s expression hardened, that conversation is one that she would rather avoid. “Forgive me for my bluntness, I´m just curious." explained the older woman.

“It´s complicated.” offered Fleur trying to dodge Andromeda´s knowing look.

“You know my mom always loved caring for her black luscious hair, she was Rosier by birth, but god how she loved caring for the Black in her.” Andromeda took another drag, smiling bitterly. “When Bellatrix was born plus her beautiful mane of black hair, my mom was ecstatic, she spent her days dragging Bella and combing her hair. My sister hated it. One day dear Bella walked into the dining table with her hair completely cut off, the remains in a braid, and offered it to our mother. For when you feel like combing a doll she said. I will never forget Druella´s face. She knew right then and there Bellatrix would never be her perfect little trophy. And she kept proving it within the passing years. You know being a Black was all shadows, the family was, of course, a pure-blood supporter, but Muggles were never deemed a big deal. That all changed when Voldemort appeared in the picture. I believe Bella found an escape to the growing neglect of our mother, which was happier when shipping her three nuisances to Hogwarts and our fleeting parent-figure who preferred balls, games, politics and the occasional paramour."

The older woman finished the cigarette, and Fleur quickly passed her another, totally absorbed in Andromeda´s almost-monologue.

“Narcissa tried to hard to get her approval but to no avail, Bellatrix´s growing scandals in Hogwarts was all our mother, and the pure-blood society could fret about. One day, when she was about sixteen years old she left, two years later it was my turn.”

Andromeda stopped talking, her last words being nothing more than a whisper and the second cigarette firmly grasped between her fingers, half-burnt. "I feel like I never knew the extent of my sister´s problem. One day she would protect me and Narcissa from my father´s drunken madness and in other days would, as quickly, jump on us herself. I really don´t know when it began… but she was a loving sister until a certain point where she couldn´t discern protect from controlling us anymore."

“You still love her, after everything she has done?!” whispered Fleur, angrily feeling tingles behind her neck.

"It is complicated," answered Andromeda with a taunting smile.

“So, all this for what?” blurted Fleur.

The older woman finished the cigarette and throw the last glance to the Veela adding in a cryptic way, “If were you, I would stop the self-medication.” and stepped out, returning to Teddy.

Fleur followed the witch´s back until she was seated, ruminating on her intentions. She didn´t have any regard for how difficult Black´s daughters have had it, especially Bellatrix, who managed to surpass her parents by being a whole new level evil.

Still absorbed in her thoughts she missed Harry´s and Ginny´s approached.

“Are you all right Fleur?” asked the young woman.

“Perfect Ginny, thank you, when can we go see the house…-” turning to the young Auror.

“Take Harry´s arm.” retorted Ginny with a smile. “And try not to get sick, he never managed to get side-Apparition free of nausea for me.” Fleur grabbed Harry´s arm. Her last vision was Harry sticking his tong out to his girlfriend while everything rapidly circled and tunneled.


End file.
